


When You’re Drunk and All Fucked Up, You’re Probably Gonna Make a Bad Decision

by whatTheFuckIsThis



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatTheFuckIsThis/pseuds/whatTheFuckIsThis
Summary: Seeing Neron as Desmond fucks John up more than he's willing to admit, so he finds a bar, gets wasted, and makes a decision he might regret in the morning.





	When You’re Drunk and All Fucked Up, You’re Probably Gonna Make a Bad Decision

John knew he should stick around or radio back to Sara to let her know about Neron being in Des’s body or at least say goodbye to Nate, but the past few hours had been a lot and the thought of having to explain what just happened was exhausting. So instead, he snuck out the back door.

He stumbled through the pitch-black background, running into bushes and stamping across what had probably been a very nice flower garden, until he found the road. In the low-light of the street lamp he saw that he had more than a dozen burs stuck to his pant legs. He tried to brush them off, but he quickly gave up and walked in the direction he thought led out of the maze of houses.

After wandering down identical streets and getting lost too many times, John finally found a slightly-busy road and hailed a taxi.

“Where to?” The cab driver asked.

“Nearest place I can get shit faced,” John said flatly.

The cab driver laughed and replied, “Sounds like a fun Wednesday night you’ve got planned.”

John hummed, leaned his head back against the head rest and shut his eyes. The horrifying image of Desmond’s face morphing into Neron’s flashed across his mind and his eyes snapped open. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the image but it wouldn’t leave.

“What brings you to Arlington?”

“Where?”

“Arlington, Virginia?” The cab driver asked, with a hint of concern in his voice. When John didn’t respond, he continued, “The town you’re in right now.”

“Ah, right,” John said, but didn’t answer the question.

“So, what brings you to Arlington?”

John normally would’ve tried to make semi-polite conversation but he wasn’t really in the mood for talking.

“I’m in town for a funeral,” he said, hoping that would shut the driver up.  

“Sorry to hear about that, bud. You know my mother-in-law passed a couple years ago. The wife still gets torn up about it. Don’t know why. She was a pain in my ass and a massive bitch if you ask me.”

“I don’t remember asking, mate,” John muttered under his breath.

“Anyway, we’re still paying for that old bag’s funeral. It’s a racket, the whole industry. Should’ve just chucked her body in a hole in the back yard, but no. We had to get a fancy wooden box that cost more than my wedding. Nearly teared up when I saw that thing get lowered into the ground.”

John tuned him out after that. Yet another reason to hate suburbs. It took too damn long to get to a bar.   

 

The driver let him out in front of the emptiest night club he’d ever seen. John was sure they’d driven past it a while ago, when his fare was in single digits, but he wasn’t about to stick around and argue with the man. 

It was only nine p.m. so he thought maybe the club hadn’t opened yet, but the bouncer let him inside after barely glancing at his forged DC driver license and taking his twenty dollars.

The club was only slightly more crowded than the outside would indicate. A few obviously underage college kids that were trying to look like they belonged here clung to the walls and a single couple was swaying along to the music on the dance floor. John sat down at the bar and ordered the cheapest whiskey they had.

“Keep the bottle out, will you love?”

The bartender glanced at him and shrugged, leaving the bottle in front of him. Out of habit, he took out a cigarette and went to light it. A cough from the bartender stopped him and he looked up to see her pointing to the reflective “NO SMOKING” sign.

“Bloody yanks,” He muttered while putting the cigarette and lighter back in his pocket.

The next few hours were spent watching the half-empty bottle slowly become completely empty and racking up a tab he wasn’t sure he could’ve paid if he hadn’t swiped Hank’s wallet from his old coat. The club got noisier as time passed and more people came up to the bar to order drinks of harass the bartender.

By the time he turned to look at the crowd, it was a little past one a.m. and the dance floor was packed with sweaty twenty-somethings grinding on each other. The only way out was by hugging the wall and walking past people making-out in the shadows. They didn’t seem to know or care that everyone in the club could still see them, as long as they felt hidden.

As the night wore, everyone around him got drunker and more confident. Despite what he considered his fairly obvious “don’t fucking talk to me” vibe, people started talking to him.

When the seat next to him opened up, a man in khaki pants a navy blue blazer slid in and yelled his order at the bartender. Martini, straight up, shaken, not stirred, he made clear several times as she made his drink.

John must have accidentally looked approachable for a moment because the man turned to him and immediately started rambling about the Senator he worked for and how good it was to get out of the office for a couple of hours. He couldn’t have been older than 25 and already he seemed like he used the fact that he had a Roth IRA as a conversation starter.  

Every time he leaned in to tell John a super-secret detail about his job, John had to stop himself from shoving the wannabe-politician onto the floor. His breath smelled like mint-scented vomit and his hands were getting dangerously close to John’s crotch. He couldn’t if the other man was just a handsy drunk or trying to get John to fuck him in the bathroom, but either way he was getting sick of him.

He had been patient, nodding along when it seemed appropriate and trying not to seem completely uninterested, but after the fifth time he’d mentioned Senator whatshisname’s tax plan, John snapped and muted the little shit. He left for the dance floor shortly after, leaving John to drink alone again, until someone else took the empty seat.

The women who came up to him were less annoying, more willing to take the hint that he didn’t want to talk, but they still had the air of self-importance that everyone in Northern Virginia seemed to have. Any other night he would’ve gone home with one of them, but tonight he was too wrapped up in his own head to even hold a conversation with anyone.

After a while he was completely wasted, just like he wanted to be. He paid his tab with Hank’s credit card, tipping over a hundred percent to the overworked bartender.

Before he left the club, he headed to the bathroom. He must have had more drinks than he thought because the walk across the room felt longer than it looked for his seat at the bar. When he got to the bathroom, it smelled like piss and vomit. Had he not been used to the scent from his time spent in shitty bars and basements during his teen years, he would’ve puked right on the floor. 

On his way out of the club he locked eyes with a short man with pink hair. He was grinding on another man who looked like Des in the low lighting. The shorter of them whispered something to his dance partner and they both turned to look at John. The Des-look alike smiled a sickly-sweet smile. If it weren’t for his eyebrow piercing and bleached-hair, John would’ve thought his mind was playing tricks on him. Or Neron was taunting him.

He looked away from the pair and exited the club, but he hadn’t thought any further than that. If he went back to the Waverider, one of those idiots would start pestering him what he’d been doing for the past six hours. He didn’t know anyone who lived nearby and he was too tired to ask a cab driver for a hotel recommendation. He settled on not deciding, just leaning up against the club wall and lighting his first cigarette of the night.

The nicotine mixed well with the alcohol, muddying his thoughts just enough to keep him from spiraling into self-hatred and regret. Before he knew it, two cigarettes were stamped out on the ground and he had lit a third.

“Can we get one of those, cutie?” John heard a smooth voice say. When he looked in the direction of the voice, he saw the two men from the dance floor. They looked even better in the street light.

“It would be my pleasure,” He smiled a hazy smile and handed a cigarette to each of them. When he took out his lighter to give to them, the shorter one opened the top and John lit the flame. He leaned in and inhaled to light his cigarette, staring intently at John as he did it.

For a second, he felt guilty for liking that moment before remembering he was free to be interested in whomever he wanted. His boyfriend was just a vessel for a demon now and Neron sure as hell wouldn’t care who he fucked.

But still, when the man who looked like Des leaned in close to John, he felt too guilty to not look away. In the street light, the resemblance was less obvious, but John could still see it. His kind eyes and calm demeanor only made John miss Des more.

“What’s your name English?” One of them asked.

“John.”  

“John. Mind if I call you Johnny?”

He very much did mind but he couldn’t quite figure out how to tell this stranger that, so he just shook his head and smiled back.

“Ty and I were wondering if you’d like to come home with us. You seem like a man who knows how to have fun.” He winked, as if he thought maybe John couldn’t have picked up on his meaning from words alone.   

John mulled over their offer for a moment and then nodded. It was the best and only real offer he’d gotten all night, plus it would give him an excuse not to go back to the ship.

The ten-minute walk to their apartment felt hazy. John mostly spent it staring Desmond. Not Desmond. Ty, he had to keep reminding himself. He wasn’t the man he’d moved in with and fallen in love with and felt safe for the first time in years with. He was a stranger. A very hot, very willing stranger. With an equally hot and willing partner.

Ty opened the apartment door and as soon as the door was closed, the pink-haired man started kissing John’s neck. Ty tore off John’s coat, discarding it by the front entrance where John would find it the following morning. At least for the night, his mind would be kept at bay.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> If you feel so inclined, feel free to leave kudos and a comment.


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